


What He Knows

by missbecky



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Fluff, Friendship, Humor, M/M, POV Outsider, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-29
Updated: 2016-10-29
Packaged: 2018-08-27 18:46:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8412562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missbecky/pseuds/missbecky
Summary: Five conversations Merlin has about Harry and Eggsy, and one he doesn't.





	

_1\. Arthur_

"Are you entirely certain there is nothing between Galahad and…this young man?" Chester King pauses delicately, refusing to say Eggsy's name. He's seated in his usual place at the head of the great dining room table above the shop, hands primly folded.

Merlin nods. He's holding his clipboard in both hands. He's also rather annoyed that he had to make the journey all the way back here just for something this ridiculous. He has a class of trainees to get back to; he doesn't need to be wasting time like this. "I have no reason to think otherwise."

Chester frowns. "Then why is he there every day at Harry's bedside? What does he hope to accomplish?"

Merlin hesitates before answering. He can't speak for Eggsy, of course, but he suspects Eggsy hopes to achieve the same thing they all do: for Harry to wake up from his coma.

"I'm not happy with this. Put a stop to it," Chester orders.

Merlin nods. He's been lenient in Eggsy's case, granting him personal time between lessons, knowing perfectly well that the boy is taking advantage of the chance to visit Harry. He hasn't seen anything wrong with it, which is why he hasn't intervened before now.

"And you're sure?" Chester insists. "There's nothing between them?" He makes it sound so distasteful.

"I'm very sure," Merlin says firmly.

Well, how was he supposed to know?

******

_2\. Gawain_

Even for the end of July, it's hot out. Merlin wipes the sweat from his upper lip and transfers his clipboard to his free hand. "Eggsy. Do you have a moment?"

Eggsy pauses, caught just as he's leaving the great house, stepping out into the summer heat. He's dressed for a run, proper trainers on his feet this time, not those hideous winged things he calls shoes. "Yeah? What is it?"

Merlin falls into step beside him. He's been planning this talk for a couple days now, but he finds he still doesn't quite know where to begin.

"What's up?" Eggsy asks. He looks impatient, ready to go off on his run. Always on the go, he is. When he isn't out there as Kingsman's newest knight, he's here learning all the things he needs to be an effective agent. And when he isn't here, he's with Harry.

Which reminds Merlin of the whole purpose for this talk.

He still feels like he's been caught flat-footed over it all, which is not a position he feels comfortable in. He's supposed to be the one with all the information, the one everyone assumes knows everything. He's not supposed to be the last one to know something as important as his best friend falling in love.

It's something he's still adjusting to.

He and Harry have been friends for over twenty-five years. They've seen each other at their best and at their worst. They've been gloriously drunk together on Russian vodka, and wept on each other's shoulders. They've argued and rowed and even had a fistfight (which Merlin maintains to this day was a draw, no matter what Harry might claim.) The few days when he thought Harry was dead in Kentucky were among the worst of his life, and his joy when they learned Harry was alive was rivaled only by Eggsy's.

It's fair to say he thought he knew Harry Hart better than anyone else. Which is why it's still a bit of a shock to admit that he absolutely did not see this coming.

"How's Harry?" he asks, coming at it sideways.

Immediately Eggsy stills, his restless impatience to be off disappearing like it was never there. "Good," he says. "He re-qualified today." He gives Merlin a narrow look, one that says he would have thought Merlin already knew this.

Which, of course, he did.

"I heard," he says. There's no point in pretending otherwise.

"I was thinkin'…" Eggsy trails off. Warm colour flushes his cheeks. He looks away.

Merlin is almost afraid to ask. "What were you thinking?"

One of Eggsy's shoulders lifts in a shrug. Trying far too late to pretend he doesn't really care, when it's obvious that what he's about to say means a lot to him. The teacher in Merlin quietly disapproves. Eggsy still has a long way to go in learning how to hide his feelings; he'll be busted on his first undercover mission if he can't get himself under control. 

"Just thinkin' that we could go out together, you know? His first mission back?" Eggsy glances up, hope shining bright in his eyes.

 _We could go out together._ Continuing in their professional life what everyone already knows is the case in their personal life. It's been two weeks since Eggsy moved into that little house in Stanhope Mews, the house where Merlin has spent countless nights in the guest room and drunk endless cups of tea at the polished dining room table. Two weeks since Eggsy has started walking around with a smug attitude that tops even what came before. Two weeks since there has been a constant smile tugging just so at Harry's mouth, never quite banished even on the most serious of occasions.

"It's possible," Merlin allows cautiously. Thankfully it isn't up to him. That decision is entirely in Arthur's hands, of course. And what she thinks is anybody's guess. She plays things closer to the vest than Chester King ever did.

Eggsy lights up at this, though, like Merlin just told him it was happening for sure. Which is his cue to finally say what he came out here to say.

"Eggsy." He switches his clipboard to his left hand; it's instinct, freeing up his dominant hand. Just in case.

"You could learn a lot from Harry," he says. "He's been doing this for a very long time."

"Yeah," Eggsy says without batting an eye. If he's bothered by the reference to the age difference between them, he doesn't show it. "I've seen the headlines."

Yes, those exceedingly tacky _Sun_ headlines taped to Harry's wall. Evidence of an ego that refuses to be left ungratified. More than once Merlin has asked him to take them down; every time Harry has loftily said that he would decorate his house how he saw fit and he didn't ask Merlin to take down that horrid rack of antlers above his fireplace now did he, and since you're here would you like a cup of tea?

And of course he knows he's meant to hear the unspoken addendum to such a remark. _I've seen them because I live there now. Because me and Harry are together now._

"And did you know," Merlin says, "that for most of those missions, I was the one guiding Harry through them?"

Now Eggsy looks interested. "Yeah?" He grins. "I bet you got a lot of great stories to tell." It's a clear invitation, one that Merlin could be persuaded to accept on another day.

"Indeed I do," he replies. Some of them are funny, some are sad, some are downright horrifying. All of which is neither here nor there right now. "And do you know what that means?"

Still smiling, Eggsy shakes his head.

"It means I've known Harry for a long time," Merlin says. "And I would very much hate to see anyone hurt him."

Eggsy's smile falters, then disappears altogether.

That's good to see, but Merlin isn't finished just yet. "I haven't seen him this happy in, well, I haven't ever seen him this happy," he admits. "I think you're good for him, Eggsy. And I'm glad for you both. But please keep in mind that if I think you're doing him more harm than good, I won't hesitate to take action."

Clearly taken aback, Eggsy blinks. "…the fuck?" he manages, quiet and stunned.

"They say that I know where all the bodies are buried at Kingsman," Merlin says. "But you should keep in mind that the reason I know all that is because I put most of them there."

Satisfied he's made his point, he turns around and walks back inside. It's a relief to get out of the stifling summer heat, back into the cool tile halls of the house where he's spent the greater part of his life. He can feel the weight of Eggsy's stare between his shoulder blades as he moves on, but he doesn't turn around.

He just keeps walking.

******

_3\. Percival_

Here in London the October fogs have settled in, but there is still plenty of sun in Malta. Not that it matters, not when the only thing Merlin can see through the glasses is the ugly brick wall smeared with Alistair's blood.

"Evac is fourteen minutes out," he says calmly.

"Fuck," Alistair groans.

"They're doing everything they can," Merlin says. On his other screen he can see their approach, the chopper gliding through the evening sky, bearing down on Alistair's location. They should be in time.

Please let them be in time.

"This isn't quite what I had in mind when I said I wanted a little excitement in my life," Alistair says. The view through his glasses shifts downward, and for a moment Merlin has a clear view of the knife wound in his abdomen. He sees a bloody shirt, the blood on Alistair's hand – trembling – and then it's gone, replaced by the brick wall with the smear of blood where he leaned against it after dropping down from the other side.

"I shouldn't think it's what anyone would want," Merlin says smoothly. "Thirteen minutes."

"Oh, fuck off with your countdown," Alistair says. "I'll be able to hear them coming. I wasn't stabbed in my ear, you know."

Merlin says nothing to this. He's guided agents through injuries before, sometimes with more urgency than others, and twice with the understanding that they would never see each other again, that his voice in the stricken man's ear would be the last thing he ever heard. He's fairly sure Alistair will be extracted in time and his wounds tended to, that he'll live to see another day and berate Merlin on yet another mission.

But there's always that worry, that fear in the back of his mind.

"I think when I get home I'll settle down," Alistair says. His view starts to shift downward, as though he wants to check on the bleeding again, then he seems to think better of it.

"There's a house for sale on Clareville Grove," Merlin offers.

Alistair makes a rude noise. "And be just blocks away from the happy lovebirds? I think not."

"It's not that bad," Merlin says. Technically he lives near Stanhope Mews too, but he can honestly say he hasn't passed either Harry or Eggsy on the street. For that to happen he would have to actually be at home, and he can't remember the last time he spent more than two nights in a row there.

"Please," Alistair says. "If I have to see them making eyes at each other one more time, I might have something rather ungentlemanly to say."

Merlin rather agrees with him on this point, but he refrains from saying so. Instead he focuses on his relief that Alistair seems convinced he will survive this mission. "I imagine Eggsy would have something to say about that."

"He's got something to say about everything," Alistair says, but there's no real unkindness in his voice. He likes Eggsy, as they all do, even if some of them took a while to thaw to his youth and decidedly unprivileged ways.

"And I don't think Harry would let that go unchallenged, either," Merlin offers.

"No," Alistair agrees softly. His head has fallen to one side; Merlin's view of the brick wall is tilted now.

"Still, they seem happy," he says. Which is very true. In the months since Harry's return from Kentucky, Merlin has not known them to argue even once. They are just as sickeningly sweet on each other as they were right from the start.

He glances at the other screen. Eight minutes out for evac. He's starting to worry that might not be quick enough.

Back to Alistair and the conversation at hand. He's not particularly keen to pursue this subject, but as he's already done everything he can to ensure the safety of his agent, right now his first priority is to keep Alistair talking, conscious, and calm. Anything to keep him hanging on, so he will still be alive when evac arrives.

"A bit sickening, though," he says, following the line of his thoughts. "And rather unprofessional, too."

"Very," Alistair grumbles. "Told Harry so myself in the pub the other day."

Despite the circumstances, Merlin can't help smiling at that. "I'm sure that went over well."

Alistair makes a loud scoffing noise. "Does he ever listen to anyone?"

"I have it on good authority that he listens to Eggsy occasionally," Merlin says. It's true, too. He's even been a witness to it once.

He had been walking through HQ a few weeks ago, immersed in the latest report from the support staff who spend most of their time compiling and analyzing data on the numerous subjects Kingsman monitors. He hadn't even realised that he wasn't alone in the hall until he was just about to turn the corner, and then he heard their voices.

"All I'm sayin' is, give it a chance," Eggsy had said.

And Harry had replied, "All right. I'll think about it." Which in Harry-speak actually means a complete surrender. _Yes, all right. For you I will do this thing, but I stubbornly refuse to actually say I will._

But even then, just two months into their relationship, apparently Eggsy had already known this fact about Harry. For as Merlin's traitorous feet bore him around the corner and he actually saw them, he witnessed the way Eggsy's face lit up, beaming with delight.

That was all he saw, though. Nothing more. He would stake his life on it. Because what he really saw next he would have preferred to never have seen, because for fuck's sake could they stop kissing each other in the halls, _please?_

"Well, that's good," Alistair says, getting Merlin's attention again. "It's about time he listened to someone." He's not quite slurring his words yet, but that point can't be too far off.

"Yes, it is," Merlin says.

"You know what else is good?" Alistair says. He shifts a little, then gasps in pain.

"What's that?" Merlin says.

"Knowing that this bloody suit is ruined," Alistair says. "I always did hate it. Don't let the med staff take it, would you? I want to burn it myself."

Merlin stares at the screen, at his view of the brick wall with its ragged smear of blood. And then he's chuckling, unable to help it.

Everything's going to be just fine.

******

_4\. Lancelot_

In the cockpit there's no time to dwell on anything except the instrument panels, the sky, and the plane itself. Roxy is a natural pilot in spite of her aversion to heights, her hands light on the controls, her concentration unwavering. It's not until they're back on the ground that Merlin sees her biting her lip, her brow furrowed.

He doesn't ask. If she wants to volunteer what is bothering her, she will. He respects her privacy too much to interfere. But as they walk from the hangar into the mansion proper, Merlin takes a position that is perhaps closer to her than the merely professional, offering himself up in a silent show of support.

And as they ascend the lift, Roxy comes out with it. "Could I ask you a question?"

"Of course," Merlin says, politely refraining from pointing out that the act of asking does not mean he is guaranteed to answer.

"You've known Harry for a long time," Roxy says. That part is a simple statement. "Do you think he would be offended if his Christmas gift was more of a couples thing, and not something just for him?"

Only the practice of long years keeps Merlin from sighing.

He has no idea when he became appointed the human repository of all knowledge concerning Harry and Eggsy's relationship, but over the past week, he has fielded three -– no, make that four now –- inquiries similar to this one. In a way it's almost flattering.

Mostly, though, it's just annoying.

"I have no idea," he says truthfully as the lift doors open and they step out into the hall. In all the years he and Harry have known each other, he can count on one hand and have fingers left over the number of holidays when Harry has been involved with someone. He has no idea what Harry would prefer for a gift, and frankly it doesn't matter. Anything will do; Harry is never one to turn down a gift of any kind, even if it's a poor fit.

"Eggsy's easy," Roxy says, which is perhaps the understatement of the century. But that seems unkind, so Merlin doesn't say it out loud. "I've had his gift since October. But I don't know what to get for Harry."

"You needn't get them anything," Merlin points out. "They are currently out of the country, as you know."

She glances at him. "I know," she says. "But Eggsy's last text made it sound like they would finish their mission ahead of schedule. And if they're home in time for Christmas, I was planning to see them."

This time Merlin does sigh. Sharing information like that is strictly forbidden, even from one agent to another. He trusts Roxy, of course, but that is beside the point. There are rules for a reason, although sometimes he thinks he might be the only one who remembers that fact.

"Eggsy's got it all planned out," Roxy says. "He'll text me when they're on their way home. He wants me to go over there and plug in the tree, and –" She stops suddenly, perhaps aware that she's already said too much. "And a few other things," she adds.

Merlin just nods.

"It's a surprise, though," she says, her voice suddenly stern. "Harry doesn't know. So don't you say anything."

A bit disgruntled, Merlin says, "I would never."

And then it hits him what Roxy just said. A surprise that Harry doesn't know about. He almost falters as they round the corner.

Well. That's something he didn't expect. Once again they have managed to blindside him. Although now that it's been brought up, he is forced to acknowledge that he shouldn't be surprised. Eggsy's made it clear that he's in this for the long haul, and Harry very obviously shares his feelings. Why shouldn't they make it official?

He glances at Roxy, wondering briefly what her role is in all this. Is she keeping the ring safe? Or is she just holding the secret itself, something Eggsy just had to share with someone?

She catches him looking at her, and she smiles. "It's great, isn't it?"

It is, actually, and Merlin smiles back. "Yes, it is."

"They almost make me believe in true love," Roxy says. "When I'm around them."

"Yes," Merlin says, although this isn't something he ever thought he would tell anyone. "Almost."

Her smile dims a little then. "Do you think they should? Or is it too soon?"

Merlin thinks about this. Mostly he thinks about an evening at the start of December when he and Harry had a few drinks together, while the skies grew dark around them and the first Christmas lights of the season lit up the London night.

For the duration of their first pint, all Harry talked about was Eggsy. He was the subject of most of their second pint, too, despite Merlin mentioning Arthur's upcoming trip to the South African branch, and in a truly desperate attempt at changing the subject, the weather forecast for the next week.

Harry Hart was clearly a man besotted, though, and he would not be deterred from his subject so easily. So at last Merlin had given a mental shrug and decided to just go with it. He truly was happy for his friend, and if that meant sitting through a two-hour recital of the wonders of Eggsy Unwin, then so be it. For queen and country, after all.

"I think they're very happy together," he says.

"Tell me about it," Roxy says with a rueful smile. "All I ever hear from Eggsy anymore is how wonderful Harry is. I swear, he thinks Harry hung the moon."

Merlin cocks his head a little. "Be careful who you say that around. Harry would be more than happy to take the credit for it." 

Roxy laughs. "Don't worry," she says. "I won't."

******

_5\. Galahad_

"For God's sake," he says. "You're just now thinking of this? Isn't it a little late for second thoughts?"

"I'm not having second thoughts!" Harry snaps. "And would you kindly pay attention to what you're doing? This is my wedding. On this day above all others I would like to look presentable, please."

Merlin refrains from making a rude noise under his breath, and starts again on the bow tie. "You haven't been anything less than presentable in nearly forty years. And anyway, I should make you do this yourself. Remind me again why you thought it was a brilliant idea to grab that falling beam when it was _on fire_?"

"You know perfectly well why," Harry says irritably; he slips his right hand behind his back, hiding the bandage and its incriminating evidence.

"Ah yes," Merlin replies smoothly. "Because it was about to fall on Eggsy and you just had to save him. Never mind that the entire roof was caving in. You just had to reach for the one part of it that was in flames."

"Do I need to get Alistair in here?" Harry says.

"Do be quiet," Merlin says, completely unrepentant. "You're ruining my concentration."

Harry purses his lips, but he does fall silent.

In quiet amusement, Merlin gets to work on the bow tie. As best man, he's had the unenviable task of shadowing Harry all day and making sure he doesn't accidentally bump into Eggsy, who is in another bedroom somewhere in this enormous house. They've rented an old English manor for the day, as Harry flatly refused to even entertain the idea of being married in a church. Not that Merlin can blame him.

This is better anyway, he has to admit. The ceremony is being performed outdoors, and the reception is merely a few steps away, the garden all done up for the occasion. Already Eggsy's little sister has torn up a handful of spring flowers, to the consternation of the gardeners, and smeared dirt all down her pretty white dress, to the dismay of Michelle Unwin.

The bow tie finished, he steps back a little to admire his handiwork. It's perfect, of course; he's had plenty of practice, settling this kind of knot on many of his agents over the years before sending them out into the field.

"As to your other concern," he says, "no, I do not think Eggsy is going to care that you 'just happened' to wake up this morning with more grey hair." It's an effort to keep from smiling. "Don't they say it just makes you look distinguished?"

"It makes me look fucking old," Harry sighs. "Which I am." He looks at Merlin. "What am I doing?" He turns away slightly, facing the window that looks out onto the spring lawn. "Fuck."

Merlin picks up the tuxedo jacket that's draped across a chair. "What are you doing? You're marrying the man you love," he says. "I believe that's what they call a wedding."

Harry shoots him a look that's equal parts annoyance and gratitude. He reaches reflexively for the jacket with his burned hand, grimaces, then takes it in his left hand. "You know how rarely I ask this, so I expect you to treat this moment with the solemnity it deserves."

Instantly suspicious, braced for anything, Merlin nods.

"Am I doing the right thing?" Harry asks.

For over nine months Merlin has stood by and watched his friend on his strange journey with Eggsy Unwin. He's been asked a hundred stupid questions about them, been offered dozens of titbits of gossip that he could honestly care less about, and fended off several unwanted suggestions about what he should do. He's listened to Harry talk about Eggsy's charm and courage and exhaustive supply of creative swear words. He's been a passive observer over the glasses as Eggsy talks about how amazing Harry is, how brave he is, how wonderful he is. He's watched them look at one another as though no one else was in the room, even when they were surrounded by Kingsman agents from four different branches.

But until now, neither of them has asked him this particular question.

"Of course you are," he says. "Although I can't understand why. You're both bloody awful to be around in the morning, and I can't believe you haven't killed each other by now. Eggsy has terrible taste in clothing despite all your efforts, and you still refuse to accept that the romantic comedy is a dying film genre. You're both incredibly stubborn and stupidly impulsive, and I know for a fact that Eggsy has filed an official complaint asking that you not be allowed to drive the Bentley anymore."

Off Harry's surprised look, Merlin smiles. "Yes, I knew about that. Just like I know that you two are made for each other."

Now Harry looks rather touched, and even though he normally shuns this kind of talk, Merlin finds himself saying, "So yes, you're both incredibly stubborn and stupidly impulsive. And I know for a fact that you'll be very happy together."

Harry turns away, his throat working; obviously he needs a moment. Merlin half-expects him to say something about sentimental speeches, and rightly so –- this is very much not his thing. But he must have said it right, because after a moment, Harry looks back at him. "Thank you," he says.

Merlin nods. The moment is rapidly approaching dangerously emotional territory, so to stave it off, he gestures toward the jacket Harry is still holding. "Need some assistance?"

"Oh." Harry looks down at it, having apparently forgotten it was even there. "No, I've got it."

Merlin watches as Harry puts on the jacket and then settles it in place, using his right hand gingerly. He smooths it down, adjusts his cuffs, and then looks up. "Well?"

"You're ready to be married," Merlin says, not without some pride.

"Oh, fuck," Harry says.

"Enough," Merlin says. He extends an arm, gesturing toward the door. "Time to go."

Harry takes a deep breath. He squares his shoulders. Then he looks over at Merlin, and he smiles. The panic is gone, the last few minutes erased like they never happened. Anticipation shines in his eyes, a quiet happiness that owes everything to Eggsy Unwin. "Thank you," he says. "For everything."

Merlin smiles back. "It was my pleasure." As he and Harry warmly embrace, he thinks about his conversations with Roxy, with Alistair, with Eggsy and Harry themselves. He's been in a unique position to watch them together right from the start. Not everyone can say that. It's why everyone always wants to talk to him about this relationship, why they all come to him.

And while no one can know what the future holds, he thinks he has a pretty good idea. It's just his way, compiling information from his sources. He's Merlin, always in the know.

And what he knows is that Harry and Eggsy are going to have a great life together.

******

_+1 Harry and Eggsy_

He's had the whisky for a couple months, the Lagavulin sitting in the back of the cupboard, strictly off limits. Most years this is enough, but this year Harry would like to add to it, find something else to give the man who's been his best -- and only -- friend for so long.

He doesn't suppose Eggsy will have many suggestions, but he's been proven wrong before when he makes an assumption about what Eggsy might or might not know. And Eggsy is very insightful; it's possible he may have the perfect idea for Merlin's birthday.

"If you were an old, stubborn Scot who deliberately cultivates an aloof attitude so no one bothers you, what would you like for your birthday?"

They're out in the back garden, enjoying the warm May sunshine after nearly a week of cloudy, dreary skies. JB lies nearby, lightly panting, looking up hopefully any time one of them reaches for a crisp from the bowl.

Eggsy looks up at him. Beneath his head, the blanket is bright red on the grass. The fading remains of a black eye shadow his face, a souvenir from his last mission. Last night Harry kissed the bruise and murmured that he would make it better; an hour later they were both naked and clutching at the sheets. He's looking forward to doing it again tonight.

"It's Merlin's birthday?" Speculative delight gleams in Eggsy's eyes.

"Yes," Harry says, "on Tuesday. But don't tell anyone if you wish to keep all your limbs intact."

"No worries there," Eggsy says darkly. "I definitely ain't crossing him."

"A wise move," Harry says. "However, you haven't answered my question."

Eggsy thinks about it for a while, and Harry lets his thoughts drift. It really is a beautiful day. Tomorrow he's off to Glasgow to start his latest mission, and he expects to be gone at least a full week. Today, though, he gets to spend the day here at home, sitting with his back against a tree and Eggsy sprawled out beside him.

"Dunno," Eggsy finally says. "What do you normally get him?"

"His favorite whisky," Harry says. It's a tradition that goes back to the first year he knew Merlin, when he was still a young agent and Merlin was his lifeline to Kingsman during a terrible undercover mission. Merlin's voice in his ear kept him sane during those awful, lonely months, and he had bought the bottle as a thank-you. Merlin had expressed surprise, wondering how he knew it was his birthday. Harry _hadn't_ known, of course, but he hadn't even blinked, had only said smugly that he knew things, too.

Since then the Lagavulin always puts in an appearance on Merlin's birthday. But this year is different. This year he wants to give more to the man who was there for him at his wedding, the man who has been there for him for so long, through so many things.

"We just need to get him something that'll make him happy," Eggsy says. He reaches up lazily with one hand. "Like us."

Harry takes it, enjoying the warmth and strength in the clasp of their hands. He can't explain the way Eggsy makes him feel, like he's young again, the world full of promise and hope. He did try once or twice, sitting with Merlin over drinks and stammering like a schoolboy with his first crush, before giving it up as a bad job. 

Some things defy rational explanation. Some things just are.

Like his friendship with Merlin, his love for Eggsy is one of those things. A part of his life he gratefully accepts and hopes will always be there.

"Well, we have time to think about it," Harry says. "In the meantime…" He makes sure he isn't about to upset the bowl of crisps or kick JB in the head, then he stretches out on the blanket beside Eggsy. 

Eggsy smiles. "Hello there."

Harry smiles back at him. "Hello." He leans in for a kiss. They can solve the riddle of Merlin's birthday present later.

Today it's just him and Eggsy.


End file.
